


Happy Day

by seeminglyincurablesentimentality (myinnerchildisbored)



Series: Rose Shelby vs. All the Bastards [3]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 23:43:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18766753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myinnerchildisbored/pseuds/seeminglyincurablesentimentality
Summary: Contains one christening, some tears, lots of ham and Arthur Shelby's version of emotional support.





	Happy Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jubilee44](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jubilee44/gifts).



Ruby looked like a flower; a single flower wrapped in white ribbons. The kind a girl might get when courting was just starting out. A lily. Or an orchid. Something that girl might keep and press and look at to remind herself that there was love in the world. She was so, so beautiful.

She was looking up at the priest with wide open, huge, dark eyes, watching as he brought up his hand to wet her with holy water from his holy birdbath. Even when it got into her eyes, she didn’t make a sound. She just blinked once, twice and went on looking at him. The priest passed Ruby back to Lizzie; and Lizzie lifted her onto her shoulder and whispered something into the tiny sea shell of Ruby’s ear.

There was something about the way Ruby fit into Lizzie’s arm, how she lay against her shoulder, that reminded Rose of a fur collar. Or a kitten. Or a mole. An impossibly soft thing. Lizzie must have felt this as well, because Rose could nearly feel the warmth coming off her smile; a smile that wasn’t for anyone or anything other than the feeling of Ruby’s tiny body against hers.

A tickle ran along the side of Rose’s nose; but even half-a-heathen like herself knew that you couldn’t go scratching your nose in the middle of a christening. She’d stand it, this couldn’t go on much longer at any rate.They’d been in the freezing cold church for ages.  
At the tip of Rose’s nose, the tickle turned into a pearl of wetness and dropped, leaving a tiny black dot on the grey stone floor between her feet. It happened again; tickle, pearl, dot…and once more, before Rose realised she was crying.

Not very much, granted, but more than not at all.

Very slowly, Rose raised her head. Bit by bit, until she was no longer looking at Ruby and Lizzie, but at the stained-glass window up behind the birdbath. The tickles…the trickles, rather, now ran down towards her ears. The window had a picture of someone being shot with so many arrows, he looked like a hedgehog.

Rose opened her eyes wide and rolled them upwards, trying to suck the tears back in. It was stupid. She could feel a whole lot more crying getting ready inside her. It was fucking stupid. She dug her thumbnail, what was left of it, into the side of her index finger as hard as she could and commanded the waterworks to shut down, by order of the Peaky fucking Blinders if need be.

Lizzie turned and started walking, Tommy fell into step beside her, then the godparents, then the rest of them – thank fuck for that.

“Rosie, why are you cryin’?” Charlie whispered.

“I’m not.”

“Your eyes are all red but…”

“Fuck off-“

Her aunt Polly was next to her in one smooth, sliding step; her hand wrapping around Rose’s arm very tightly.

“Behave,” she said very, very quietly.

“I am,” Rose muttered.

Pol kept her hold on Rose’s arm until they were down the steps and on the street, making their way to the cars. Charlie dashed off towards the one parked at the front, where their father was holding the door open so Lizzie could climb in with Ruby. Rose made to follow them, but Polly steered her towards uncle Arthur’s car.

“You’re with us,” she announced.

“But-“

“It’s only down the road,” Polly interrupted firmly.

“I-“

“It’ll give you a chance to simmer down.”

“I didn’t do anythin’,” Rose protested.

“In,” Polly ordered, opening the back door of Arthur’s car.

Rose groaned and got in, dropping into the seat. Arthur was at the wheel already, with Linda and Billy next to him. Billy was half asleep on Linda’s lap, chewing on the sleeve of her dress. She was humming something slow and soothing, something churchy sounding. Rose pressed her own sleeves against her eyes.

“D’you want to tell me what’s the matter?” Polly asked, settling in beside her.

“Nothin’,” Rose growled.

“Suit yourself,” Polly said. “Get the sour face off then, if you please. This is a happy day.”

“Fuck off,” Rose whispered inaudibly, her face turned towards the window.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing.”

They set off towards Lizzie’s, the sky so blue above them it made Rose’s eyes hurt.

#

There was cake and drink and a ham the size of Ruby and someone cranked the phonograph before the front door had even been shut. Karl and Charlie were under the table, a plate of biscuits between them, digging soldiers from their various pockets and commandeering empty cups for tanks.

Rose sank into an armchair and stared gloomily into the fireplace. She wasn’t at all sure what her problem was, but she felt as though someone had taken a cheese grater to her insides. Like she’d eaten too much and then spun around a pole for an hour.

“Here she is!”

Lizzie, jogging Ruby on her hip, appeared by Rose’s chair.

“Your big sister, see,” she cooed. “Will you hold her for a minute, Rosie, so I can get the food round?”

“ ‘course,” Rose said as cheerfully as she could manage.

Lizzie sat Ruby down on Rose’s legs, leaning her into the crook of her arm.

“Orright, Rubes?” Rose said quietly.

Ruby looked up at her and moved her mouth about.

“Yea?” Rose asked. “D’you feel like a good Christian now?”

A spit bubble popped in the corner of Ruby’s lips and even that was somehow lovely and dainty and beautiful. Ruby was staring at Rose now, frowning a little. The tiniest, tiniest crease between her nearly invisible eyebrows.

“Get the sour face off you,” Rose murmured. “This is a happy day. Happy, happy, happy. Happy fuckin’ day…”

Ruby’s frown deepened and she started to cry. Rose tried to bounce her, but they were awkwardly positioned and Ruby started to slip down, which made her cry more. Before Rose could work out what to do next, her aunt Ada was there, scooping Ruby up and rolling her eyes at Rose.

“You’re useless,” she said with a grin. “Dropping the guest of honour on her big day, that’d be right. Woudn’t it, little Ruby? Wouldn’t it?”

“I wasn’t-“ Rose started hotly.

“Don’t shout at me, I’m only messing,” Ada said. “Keep your hair on.”

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s funnier that you breaking the baby, at any rate,” Ada countered.

“I didn’t fuckin’ break the-“

“Are you still at it?”

Rose turned and was met with her aunt Polly’s most unimpressed expression.

“I-“ Rose could feel the back of her eyes heating up and all her words snagged on her grated-up insides. “She-“

“I was joking,” Ada said.

“Get fucked, you bloody-“

“Right.” Polly pulled Rose from her chair and towards the kitchen door.

“Get off…” Rose was struggling as much as she dared, which wasn’t very much, and was still dragged through the door and into the kitchen itself, “I didn’t-“

“Enough,” Polly said sharply, opening the back door. “Out.”

“But-“

“Out,” Polly repeated in a tone that brokered no argument. “Til you’ve remembered your manners.”

“I didn’t fucking do anything!” Rose shouted.

“If you’re intent on bein’ a moody little cow, you’ll do it out there,” Polly said. “Now, out.”

“Fuck off.”

Polly shoved Rose out of the back door.

“Enjoy yourself,” she said grimly and closed the door before Rose had a chance to reply.

Rose kicked the wall next to the door so hard it hurt. It also scraped a pretty deep line across the point of her stupid patent leather shoe.

“Fucking rat bastards,” she hissed, spitting on the back step. “Throw me out, you fucking bitch, will ye? Fuckin’ hell…”

She sat down heavily on the back step; elbows on her knees, head in her hands.

“Fuck…”

The word was wet like a blanket left out in the overnight rain.

She’d been thrown out at Charlie’s christening as well; but that’d been fair enough. Grace had put him down on the sofa for a minute, for whatever reason, and Rose had poured her cup of tea over his head instantly. It hadn’t been hot, it was barely warm even, there was lots of milk in it, but it had still been a mess and he’d screeched like a stuck pig. If there hadn’t been a room full of guests, Grace might have strangled Rose on the spot.

Perhaps christenings just weren’t for her.

Stupid.

It was sunny, but there was no warmth left in the sun at all. Rose thought about going in to get her coat, but she didn’t want to give Pol the satisfaction of putting her out again. No chance. If she caught her death sitting out here, they’d be sorry. Provided they gave a fuck.

Maybe her father would come looking for her in a bit. Then again, probably not. Lizzie would go looking if she couldn’t see Ruby; or Linda, if Billy was missing; Ada would go looking for Karl, for sure…and just like that, Rose had started herself off again. Sitting outside, crying like an ejit. Happy day, indeed.

There was an empty milk bottle next to the step and Rose picked it up and threw it down the path. It shattered, glass exploding in a brief cascade of glitter in the cold sunlight.

The door behind her opened. Rose closed her eyes and braced herself.

“Orright?” a gravelly voice asked.

“Sure,” Rose mumbled into her folded arms.

Her uncle Arthur stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind him. He nudged Rose out of the way with his boot and sat down on the step beside her, cigarette in one hand, a cup in another.

“Are you drinkin’ tea?” Rose asked.

“Like fuck,” Arthur said. “But this-“ he raised the cup and winked at her, “-this’ll keep Linda off my back for the time bein’.”

“That’s desperate.”

“Happy wife, happy life, ay?” Arthur tossed his cigarette onto the path. “What’s eatin’ you?”

Rose shrugged.

“Orright, I’ll guess,” her uncle leaned his back against the door and studied her for a while. “You’ve wrapped our Ruby a box of dog shite for a christening present and now you’re worried they’ll find you out.”

“What- no!”

“Right…that’s orright, I know,” Arthur took another sip from his cup, raising his little finger daintily. The corners of Rose’s mouth were twitching ever so slightly, she could feel it. “You’ve cut your school teacher’s throat ear-to-ear but now your little mates are sayin’ they’ll grass unless you’ll do the new teacher as well. Rough, Rosie, but you’ll best just-“

“What’re you on about?” Rose giggled.

“Have I got the wrong end of it?”

“You do, yea.”

“Ah, good fuck, Rosie…you’ve put bloody arsenic into the school dinner, haven’t ye?” Her uncle spat some of his whiskey out in horror. “To shut them up, the little songbirds, eh? That’ll weigh on your conscience…”

“Are you that drunk already, uncle Arthur?” She was laughing now.

“How dare you? Sober as a judge.”

“Fucking liar, you’re drunk as ten bastards,” Rose said gleefully.

“Little shit,” Arthur shook his head. “Where the fuck d’you pick up this sort of bloody talk?”

“At least I’m not talking out of my fuckin’ arse, like some,” Rose shot back.

“D’you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“I-“ It was as if someone’d wedged a chunk of two-day-old bread into her open mouth.

“Yea?” Her uncle taunted.

“I would…” Getting the words past the invisible bread was hard, it made her speech slow and a bit painful “…but…Ihaventgotone.”

The last bit fell out of her like spew, followed by a pathetic sniffle.

“Eh, Rosie, none o’this, eh?” Arthur had his free hand on her shoulder and was holding her at arms-length, not quite shaking her but half-way there. “No bawlin’ allowed.”

“I’m not,” Rose sobbed. “I’m...it’s stupid…”

“Too right, it’s bloody stupid.” Her uncle was looking down the path and over the little wall, as if he was hoping some help might come along. “Mothers…bloody hell, Rosie, hardly anyone in there’s got one of those.”

Rose nodded, frantically wiping her eyes and nose with her sleeves.

“Stop your fuckin’ crying now...” He was ruffling her hair awkwardly.

“Sorry,” she sniffed.

“Good girl, Rosie, you’re orright.” Arthur patted her like she was the flank of a pony. “Really, but – whole house full of people and the only ones with mothers above ground are fuckin’ Ruby, Karl and our Billy. And you don’t see the rest of them in there having a sook about it, do ye?”

“No…” Rose’s eyes were almost perfectly dry now. “No, you’re right. Just…I dunno. It just looks…nice.”

“What does?” Her uncle drained the dregs from his cup and patted his pockets in search of a cigarette.

“Havin’ a mum, I s’pose.” Rose didn’t look at him directly, she was just sort of watching his battle-worn hands flicking his lighter open.

“Is it fuck,” he said gruffly. “Look, Rosie girl, you’ve got some – what’s it…- romantic notions.”

“What’s that when it’s at home?”

“That’s better.” Arthur smiled at her. “It’s when you think something’s great when it’s really just the same shite in a different colour.”

“Is it that?”

“Depends, I s’pose,” her uncle shrugged. “But usually, yea. Don’t get me wrong, Rosie, our mum was a lovely woman to be sure. But all she’d time to do was whack us when we got out of line and try to put food on the table. So, y’know…you’re not missing out on much.”

“Yea, I know,” Rose said unconvincingly. “It’s just today, anyway, honest. Lizzie and Ruby and Linda and Billy…it just seems nice.”

“They’re only babies,” Arthur said. “It’s diff’rent for babies.”

“Why is it?”

“Dunno…’cause they’re fuckin’ babies, Rosie.” Her uncle rubbed the back of his neck.

“I didn’t have a mum even as a baby,” Rose said glumly.

“Well, nor did your uncle Finn,” Arthur retorted. “And he’s orright, isn’t he. Anyway, you did. For a bit.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Still.” Her uncle watched his smoke drift up for a while. “She was orright, Greta.”

“Yea?”

“Yea.” He smiled, a little sadly maybe. “And I’ll tell you somethin’ else, are you listening?”

Rose nodded.

“That woman, your mum, she poured enough bloody love on your little baldy head when she was ‘round to last you til you’re a scrawny old hag.”

With that, Arthur stood, picked up his teacup and hurled it over the wall.

“I’m gettin’ a proper fuckin’ glass now,” he announced. “Come on, it’s bloody freezing. Get some food in you, eh?”

He held out his hand and Rose let him pull her off the step and back into the house.

#

Ada and Polly were in the kitchen when Arthur and Rose came in. Polly raised an eyebrow at Rose. Arthur disappeared in search of more drink, leaving her at the women’s mercy.

“Sorry,” Rose said sheepishly.

“Don’t tell me,” Polly nodded towards Ada.

Rose sighed.

“I’m very sorry I was rude, auntie Ada.”

Ada looked down her nose at Rose for half an age.

“Fuck off, you are,” she said primly.

“I fuckin’ am,” Rose said biting back a grin.

Ada laughed and flung her arm round Rose’s shoulders. She planted a kiss on her head and then shoved her off towards the next room.

Rose filled a plate with as much food as it would hold and carefully balanced it towards the fire.

“There you are.”

Her father was on his own on the sofa, so Rose and her plate settled down next to him.

“Where’d you get to?” he asked.

“Tea party,” she said, “with uncle Arthur.”

“Sounds lovely. Give us a bit of that, eh?” Tommy reached over and fished a chunk of ham from her plate.

“Help yourself,” Rose said through a mouthful of food. “Where’s our Ruby?”

“Asleep.”

“Missing her own party?”

“Yea, poor little thing.” Tommy smiled. “You’ll have to remember for her and tell her about it. Can you do that?”

“ ‘course.”

They worked their way through Rose’s plate together, watching Ada, Linda and Lizzie dancing between the table and the kitchen door. There wasn’t enough room for the three of them and they were knocking into each other, but they were having a great time anyway.

“What’ll you tell her?” The plate was empty and her father was lighting a cigarette.

“About today?”

“Yea.”

Rose thought about this for a while, long enough for most of her father’s cigarette to disappear into the music and the voices around them.

“That she was beautiful,” she said finally. “Beautiful and brave…and that she didn’t cry. I’ll tell her that her mum didn’t take her eyes off her once and that I nearly dropped her but she got saved by her auntie Ada. And…yea, and that her uncle Arthur was drinkin’ his whiskey from a cup, pretending it was tea so he’d not get nagged. I’ll tell her when she fell asleep, there was dancin’ even if there wasn’t any room for it, because you’ve to have dancing on a happy day.”

There was something in her father’s face when he looked at her that smoothed out whatever roughness had been left inside her.

“Will you tell her we had a dance as well, you and me?” he asked.

“I’m not making bits up,” Rose said firmly. “These sort of stories have to be all true.”

“Fair enough,” Tommy conceded. “We best make it true then, eh?”

And so they did.


End file.
